


coping mechanism

by acidulication



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past Suicide, a lot of crying, implied depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 02:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13180725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidulication/pseuds/acidulication
Summary: There is numbness in his chest and pain in his fingers, but for now he can only remember.





	coping mechanism

**Author's Note:**

> word vomit n actually coping mechanism bc im not having a good day

It’s the sound of children laughing outside that made Baekhyun stir out of his sleep, buried under a blanket too big for his small bed. He doesn’t move, at first, just lays there, pretending to still be half asleep even if the only person who would have scolded him for that was long gone now. The light filtering through the room’s blinds fills it with yellows and oranges, a bit of pink here and there, warm, reassuring colors, and his mind, like most mornings, wanders to a long gone past.

He remembers giggly mornings in a much wider bed, he and his lover talking in hushed whispers, careful not to wake up anyone, even though they both knew there was no one to wake up, in their home. He remembers tucking his face in the crook of Minseok’s neck and shoulder, _home_ he would call it. Remembers Minseok lightly hitting him when Baekhyun’s breathing would tickle him. He remembers.

One of the children outside shrieks loudly, and Baekhyun thinks he recognizes Jongin’s voice, and the kid’s older brother whining at him for something. Baekhyun is cold.

Routine is what throws him out of bed, as well as the deep uncomfortable feeling that something is _missing_. He doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to talk about it, even after all of Junmyeon’s attempts. He keeps his eyes bound to the floor and the slow movement of his feet, step after step, until he reaches the kitchen. He allows himself to stare out of the window, the blinding yet beautiful light of the sun warming him through the glass.

He sees his friend’s kids playing outside, Jongin and Jongdae running around, bundled up in as many layers as their father could give them. Baekhyun can imagine the familiar scene of Junmyeon fussing over the kids, Jongdae whining that he’s _grown now i’m seven dad i can do it_ and Jongin just taking it in a stride. He can see Yifan rolling his eyes at Junmyeon’s antics, a fond smile he quickly hides once his husband turns around. He can almost feel the warmth of his friend’s home, almost wishes he were there with them. He knows their door is always open for him, knows they understand these mornings where he just _needs_ someone.

But Baekhyun can only stare outside with tired eyes, feeling the weight of his eyelids, weight of the shadows circling his eyes more than any other days. There is snow outside, he sees the two kids throwing each other snowballs, Jongdae using his little height advantage to tackle his younger brother on the ground. Jongin whines and tries to fight back, ending up hiding under his big scarf, laughing. He absently notices Yifan coming out of their house, and if he wasn’t feeling so numb he would have seen the way he was shivering, would have laughed. Yifan hated the cold with a passion, but the couple probably didn’t want their kids to get sick.

 

Yifan looks up, sees Baekhyun. He doesn’t smile. He knows not to go and talk to Baekhyun, today, and the latter is thankful. He nods, instead, starring a second too long before turning around and holding Jongin’s tiny hand in his, walking back inside.

Baekhyun sighs, shivers.

 

It’s early, and a Sunday. It’s quiet in their neighborhood, and he’s grateful, wouldn’t be able to handle noises, today. There is a weight in his steps he doesn’t want to talk about, a pain in his fingertips he’d rather forget and cottons in his head. Routine would make him eat, at least drink hot chocolate, warm himself up. Routine isn’t strong enough against memories. Baekhyun sits on his couch, empty handed. He remembers.

 

Minseok used to love the snow, and he wishes he could see in it the same beauty he once did. Wishes he could admire the way the light reflected against the white crystals, wishes he could stand watching it fall like he used to, wishes he could chase snowflakes to look at their shapes. But he’s cold, and alone.

 

He pinches his fingertips, chasing the pain away for a brief second.

 

Heavy steps drags him back to his bedroom, empty of any marks of emotional attachment like everything had since years. He remembers Junmyeon trying to help him with that, his friend helping him putting up posters and cute decorations around the house. Baekhyun couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t help but remove them all the next day - ripping and breaking some of it. The empty walls stares back at him, but he’s long grown insensitive to the void filling this place.

 

He ignores it when he sees his phone has notifications, grabs an old yellow sweater and some pants. It used to be his favorite color. But then again he used to love every colors. Baekhyun wants to snort, to laugh, but a muffled whimpers come out of his throat. He ignores it, puts on his coat.

 

It’s cold outside, but still doesn’t compare to the eternal shivers having taken shelter inside of him. Doesn’t compare to how he feels when he remembers these long gone warm morning cuddling against his lover. He reaches inside his pocket, the tip of his fingers brushing against a paper that never left the coat. He always thought he could never look at it again. Couldn’t even take it out and throw it away. Throw _years_ away in a single movement.

He walked in the snow, mind on this paper and the small characters written on it, the last memories he’d ever have of him.

 

He hated that in a matter of minutes, he was already so close. Hated he himself never moved away, couldn’t get himself to do it, ever after all this time. The road was completely silent, expected so close to new year’s eve, with a layer of snow making it more dangerous than ever. It had snowed, that day.

 

But it wasn’t the snow that killed him.

 

There is nothing indicating that it was the place he died, not anymore, the building had already been scheduled to be taken down. It was so like him. Making sure that even in death no one would be harmed. Making sure he had no unfinished business. Left Baekhyun a note, because that’s all he could emotionally afford.

 

Baekhyun had learnt to read between the lines since a long time, too.

 

The tired man stopped in front of the empty space, between a closed bakery and a residence. He remembers. The first time he came here, he broke down and cried, Yifan’s comfortable hold on his shoulder doing nothing to soothe the colossal amount of pain he was feeling. The second time, he had been alone, could only sit and stare at the ground, hoping there was some sort of _answer_ there. He cried more. There was not one time where he had not cried. Maybe today, he thought without much hope. Maybe today he’d be able to overcome to pain.

 

“Hey.”

 

He sat on the cold ground, hands fiddling with the paper in his pocket. “It’s been a while.” _A year._

The silence answers him, and even if Minseok had always been a quiet person, silence was never more heartbreaking than when Baekhyun came to this place. Minseok liked silence. Baekhyun had learned not to fill every void with sound, but habits were hard to kill. So he started talking, voice working by itself when his mind was wandering to the paper in his pocket, not even registering what was filtering through his mouth.

“The other day Junmyeon got their wedding’s pictures out, because Jongdae had asked. They asked about you, you know. Who their dad’s best man was. I wasn’t here, when they did, Junmyeon told me when I came back from work later that day.” He sighed, pressing his index over his thumb. “He misses you. He tries not to talk about it much, but he grew up with you, you know. It’s hard to have your brother just-” He paused. Didn’t even know why. There was no one to listen to him. Talking was just a coping mechanism. Talking _here_ was the only thing he could ever manage. His hands fell on his lap.

 

 

“I miss you.”

 

 

The wind picked up, colder than ever, gently ruffling Baekhyun’s hair. “I miss you so much.”

 

“It’s hard to get up everyday knowing you’re not here with me.” Things he had already told him times and times again, things he couldn’t help but repeat over and over, things he needed out. “It’s hard to eat, take care of myself, when you’re not here to help me do it. It’s hard to be nice to people when I knew you, when I know you were the most gentle person in the world. It’s hard to smile and go on with my life when I love you and can’t seem to go on.”

He smiled weakly. “There are songs and scents that remind me of yourself, and I have to blank out before getting myself back together. When i was babysitting Jongin the other day he was watching cartoons. I started crying in the middle of _How to train your dragon_ because I could still see your excited face when we went to see it together.”

 

“I live off of the memories of when you were here-” _When you were mine_. His vision turned blurry, and he realised, maybe he’d never be able to not cry, coming here, talking to him. “And I keep thinking about the last words I have from you.” He doesn’t need to reach down his pocket. Knows the words one by one. Easy sentences engraved in his mind. “ _I love you. It was never your fault. I’m sorry._ ”

Baekhyun gathers a stray tear with his index fingers, chuckles without any humor. “If I wasn’t involved, if i was just reading a story, I would think, pretty lame last words, aren’t they ?”

 

He remembers. Sunny smile, lips on his skin, hands never leaving his sides. “I know. Not to blame myself. I know you wouldn’t want that, i know it wasn’t, _my_ fault. You told me that enough, before you decided to do this. I just-” He remembers hasty hands brushing away secret tears, remembers fake smiles he could always see through. “I just wish- Fuck it’s selfish, to think that. I just. I wish I would have been able to keep you here. To make you want to live. I wish I had been enough.” He sniffle, ignores the shake of his hands. “Wish you were here to punch me, tell me I’m being stupid for thinking that way. And I would just tell you that it’s unfair, how I’m the selfish, greedy one, who wanted to keep you here, and you’re the one, with the too big heart and the shiny eyes, the one who was always here for us, who decided to g _o-_ ”

He started sobbing, rubbing his sleeve against his face. “It’s been _years_ , Minseok. Years since you fucking _willingly drove right into this building_ and left _me_ \- but i can’t fucking _move on_ because you never ever told me _why_ -”

He remembers hugging him, remembers singing him to sleep on bad days, remembers brushing his hair until the only sound in their room was the rustling of the blanket with the rise and fall of his chest. Remembers Minseok kissing him breathless.

“-and i just- i know you were just _sad_ \- and I understand- I just- wish there were answers- wish i could have done more- because I miss you more than I ever thought was possible- and I just-”

 

Remembers the first time he saw him, sitting beside him in class and waking him up gently, remembers being so enamored with his voice and wanting it to be the only thing he would hear for the rest of his life. Remembers the unnatural silence following his death, in their house. Remembers not being able to leave the house because he wanted to hold onto the memory of his voice a little longer.

“You’re gone, and it’s no one’s and everybody’s fault-”

 

_And I miss you, and I love you._

 

And Baekhyun cries, can’t do much more than that, hasn’t been able to do much more, and he’s so frustrated that he can’t move on, knows that Minseok wouldn’t want that, wouldn’t want him to be stuck in time.

But he can’t do anything, can’t find the strength to pick himself up the metaphorical ground of Minseok’s suicide, can only wallow in misery and drown in his own, old and dusty pain.

 

But Minseok wouldn’t want that.

Minutes pass, tears dry. He slowly stands up, arms weak and legs numbs, starts walking back. Maybe tonight he’ll talk to Junmyeon.

 

But for now, he remembers.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/hy_ddy)


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